Agreement (Draco x Hermione Lemon)
by lemon-babycakes
Summary: Hermione gets some fitting comeuppance for some shenanigans she pulls, involving a small bit of blackmail and Draco Malfoy. Fair warning, this will include a fair bit of disturbing material, possibly including non-consensuality.
1. Chapter 1 - Invitation

The young witch studied her unfamiliar reflection. She held out her pale, foreign hands in front of her, a feeling of astounded elation floating in her chest. The appearance in the mirror was not Hermione's, but that of Draco Malfoy's. Her clothes and shoes discarded beside her on the bathroom sink next to an empty glass, she stood in the prefects' bathroom staring at herself in a stranger's body. Hermione turned around, then faced herself again and ran her hands over her chest... or was it really his, then? Malfoy's body was thin but just slightly muscular in the arms, most likely from his Quidditch playing, she commented to herself mentally, raising her eyebrows, and his, as she shamelessly looked at Malfoy's pale loins, which exceeded her expectations. At one point, Hermione had playfully explained Draco's rude and arrogant behavior with an assumption that he was "inadequate", but as she hated (or didn't) to admit, he had a very good body.

Hermione had stolen the ingredients for her own brewing of Polyjuice Potion from the Potion Master's stores for the second time during her education at Hogwarts - this time, without the knowledge of her friends Harry and Ron, and certainly not for any noble purpose, though once again concerning Draco Malfoy. While on her rounds after dark in the castle corridors, she'd broken into (or "checked in on", as she preferred to put it) Slughorn's office in the dungeons to steal ("borrow") the ingredients. She had taken to getting distracted by Draco's presence whenever she saw him. In the Great Hall, between classes, in Care of Magical Creatures and Potions... Fantasies built up in her head, distracting her from her studies, so that while she tried to maintain her status as the perfect student, she found herself glassy-eyed, wondering what was under Draco's robes. And to allieviate a bit of her own curiosity, Hermione took advantage of her genius to brew the difficult potion in secret. A piece of her hoped that as soon as she had become Draco and her curiosity disappeared, her fantasies and her irrational attraction towards the young man who'd belittled her and her friends and family for five years would disappear as well. But, much to Hermione's dismay, being handed a mental image of Draco's thin but fit body only fueled her fantasies further.

Ever since their sixth year at Hogwarts started, and Malfoy had hardly paid any mind to Hermione, she realized how much she missed his routine beratement of her. Her feelings for Ron didn't quite evaporate, but it seemed her subconscious mind had latched onto Draco. Now and then she spent many waking (and sleeping) hours of her leisure time thinking about Draco. Admittedly, the fantasies she often had during all hours of the day were mostly very plain. She'd never considered herself abnormal in any way when it came to her sexuality, and being entirely inexperienced, she had no way of knowing what she wanted beyond her sexual instincts. Deep down, Hermione knew there was no chance Draco would ever be loving or gentle towards her, even if he was interested in a "Mudblood" like her. However, there wasn't any harm in simply dreaming, she'd reassure herself. That is, until she brewed the potion._  
_

/

Bent low over her cauldron, Hermione hurriedly but cautiously added four drops of mandrake extract to her potion, turning it a deep, shimmering purple color. She straightened up once again and looked around the dim dungeon room proudly to see that the rest of her Potions class was hardly finished. First again; even with Harry's immoral decision to use directions that weren't his, he could never beat Hermione's time. She felt quite pleased - until she looked to her left through the variously-colored steams errupting from other students' failed concotions and realized Malfoy was standing smugly beside his cauldron much like she was. And he was looking at Hermione. She quickly looked down again at her own cauldron. Hermione thought to herself - _Was that smugness or amusement? _After ladling some of her potion into a flask, she walked triumphantly to Professor Slughorn's desk and set it down before returning to her shared table, her eyes glued in front of her to avoid looking at Draco. Why was he staring at her like that? What did he know? Her thoughts immediately became incontrollably paranoid; Hermione wasn't known for her stability in pressuring situations, after all. She tried to calm her rampant thoughts with the reassurance that Draco wouldn't know at all what she'd been doing just yesterday in the prefects' bathroom. Draco had always tried to intimidate her and her friends, so how would this be any different? Taking several slow, deep breaths, she rummaged in her bag for any random book from the number she carried to take her mind off of things. She absorbed herself in the text, until she couldn't entirely ignore Draco walking towards the table she, Harry, and Ron stood at. Both Ron and Harry looked defensively startled.  
"As dull as always, aren't you, Weasley?" Draco sneered, his voice lower than usual to avoid being heard by the professor over the moderate babble of students. He observing the discolored mess of potion in Ron's cauldron - Ron's ears turned red as he scowled at Malfoy.

"Shove off, Malfoy, Snape isn't here anymore to give you special treatment," Harry said furiously.  
"You'd really think Weasley would do a better job scraping off of Granger's work," Draco said, his grey eyes glinting maliciously. "You always were good at making potions, _aren't you, Granger?_"

The words hit Hermione like ice as Malfoy walked away smirking, back to his desk. Her face felt as though she couldn't move it. There was no overlooking what Draco had just said... when had he ever complimented her before? Why was he doing it now... and why was it on her potion-making prowess?  
"Did Malfoy just compliment you, Hermione?" Ron said, confusedly. Both he and Harry continued to stare in the direction of Draco. "That was weird."

"I'd think I _am _good at potions, Ron," Hermione said with raised eyebrows. Unable to argue the point, Ron attempted in vain to revive his failed potion while panic attempted to overtake Hermione as she stared down at the wooden surface of the group's table.

With the sound of the bell and Professor Slughorn's dismissal, the three packed up their books and walked out of the dark room into the slightly more well-lit corridor. Suddenly, Hermione tripped slightly as somebody knocked into her. Balancing herself, she looked around, slightly confused and entirely surprised.  
"Watch where you're going, Granger. And you dropped your book!" Malfoy combed his blond hair out of his pale, sneering face as several of the surrounding Slytherins chuckled cruely. "You're competing with Longbottom for the stupidest in the class."  
As the Slytherins stalked away, animatedly chatting, Hermione bent down to pick up her fallen textbook... when she realized she hadn't been carrying any books on vampires at all. She grabbed the book from off of the cold concrete dungeon floor and studied it while Harry and Ron walked on to Charms class, completely oblivious to the absence of Hermione. Curious, she opened the crimson-colored book to see if there was a name written inside, and found a piece of parchment with sharp, long writing on it.

_"I know. Trophy room, 10 PM."_

At the bottom of the note were two letters... "DM". Hermione was indescribably terrified.

**He knows.**


	2. Chapter 2 - Anticipation

Thanks for the wait, friends. Please enjoy this chapter, I'll do my best to have chapter three up relatively soon.

/

Hermione was at a loss for words, which was just as well when she was incapable of speech at the moment. Sitting off the side of her four-poster bed in the sixth-year girls' Gryffindor dormitory room, she clasped her hands together in her lap and looked through the crystalline windows just ahead, spilling silvery light into the room with sleeping students... save for Hermione. In one pocket of her black school robes, which she wore unfastened over her orderly clothing, was the piece of parchment she'd been slipped by Draco Malfoy only hours ago. "I know. Trophy room, 10 PM"... Hermione's stomach felt as though it were tied up in knots, and for the first time in a long time, she had no answers. The most logical, knowledge-driven student any witch or wizard at Hogwarts knew... and she was at a complete loss for how to handle her current predicament. She'd had an easier time with Harry in the Department of Mysteries, for goodness' sake. One thing was for sure - Malfoy must've known Hermione had stolen potion ingredients from Professor Slughorn. How, she hadn't the faintest idea, but every one of his snide comments and behavior pointed towards this fact. But why hadn't he turned her in? Hermione Granger, the "Mudblood", friend of his nemesis, everything he despised... but he hadn't gone to Professor Dumbledore to have her expelled from school. The very thought was nearly unbearable for her. Six years of hard work, of sacrificing her sanity in her third year for her bloody studies! Though, knowing Malfoy, she knew she shouldn't be surprised that he'd love holding information such as this over her head. After all, everybody at Hogwarts was aware of how seriously the prefect Hermione took her education. The only serious question Hermione had time to answer for herself was whether or not she should go to the trophy room per Malfoy's request... no, that was instruction. After all, what choice did she have? None, and he knew it.

The clock on her wooden bedside cabinet showed the time as 9:40, and every one of the girls in the room were fast asleep after a long day of classes. While mentally preparing herself to face walking out of the dormitory, something crossed Hermione's mind - what would happen when she got there? Of course, Malfoy would intimidate her, antagonize her with the idea of expulsion, but what was his goal? Was this simply a ploy to relish what he'd inevitably do to all her effort in school? Despite her overwhelming anxiety, the thought crossed her mind of her, alone with Draco after curfew in the trophy room... But she quickly recovered some semblance of composure. This wasn't a time for stupid fantasies. Her identity as a witch was on the line, and preoccupying herself with silly romantic ideas was what had brought her to this conundrum in the first place.

Taking a deep, slow breath, Hermione quietly stood up and walked across the silent room, avoiding putting excessive pressure on the worn floorboards. With a last glance into the mildly illuminated dormitory, Hermione pulled the inconveniently creaky wooden door open and slipped out of the room. Keeping her mind far away from thoughts of what may transpire in the trophy room, she descended the smooth stone steps into the still and silent sitting area, where a gentle fire crackled and gifted an enticing comfort to the room. But Hermione was all too preoccupied to appreciate this. Realizing the noise her proper school shoes would make on the stone floors of the hallways, she slipped off her shoes and placed them inconspicuously under a pillow on the plush maroon couch, until her return. Quietly slipping through an obscenely snoring portrait of the Fat Lady and carefully but briskly walking down the stone corridors, Hermione felt an anxious weight in her chest. She was out after curfew, the exact act she'd reprimanded Harry and Ron for countless times. _Oh, if they could see their "rule-abiding" friend, now_, she thought savagely as she descended a flight of stairs and passed a rather crude stone bust of a medieval wizard. She stopped abruptly and was made aware of the chill of the stone beneath her feet. She'd reached the trophy room door, a beaten and battered old wooden door between two large paintings of scenery, baring the metal plaque, "Trophy Room". Conquering the lead feeling in her chest and legs, Hermione hesitantly extended a pale hand out in the dim corridor and twisted the bronze doorknob, revealing inside the room nothing but darkness. Confidence slightly restored with the realization that Malfoy had not yet arrived, she pushed open the door just enough to slip inside and close it shut behind her. In the pitch-black darkness of the room, she raised her arms in front of her to search for a lightswitch, only to frustratedly remember she had a perfectly good wand in her pocket. Cursing her ignorance, she withdrew her wand from within her robe pocket and prepared to mutter the needed charm, when the room was bathed in the warm glow of light. Her eyes once again attempting to adjust to the brightness, Hermione turned around to find Malfoy leaning casually against a polished trophy case, a lit lantern in his hand. Her heart skipped a beat as she nervously intertwined her hands in front of her. She'd been put off her guard entirely by thinking she was alone in the room, and here Malfoy was, amused with her obvious lack of nerve. Her eyes swept over him for only a second - he was wearing a black collared shirt with dress pants and shoes. _Why did he have to dress so nicely for this, _she pleaded with herself.

"You know, I'd thought of arriving as I usually would, but I'm sure you appreciate a theatrical entrance," Malfoy said coldly and casually, a mild smile threatening to surface as he stared at Hermione with emotionless grey eyes. He put on a mock-sensitive expression. "Did I catch you off your guard, Granger? Are you afraid?"  
"In your dreams, Malfoy," Hermione said in a manner she hoped was confidence, but she couldn't quite erase the note of anxiety in her tone. "Why did you want me to come here?"  
"We both know why I asked you here, and we both know I'm entirely right in my thinking, or else you wouldn't have come at all," Draco said wickedly, turning his wand over and over again at his side with his right hand. "I for sure thought you'd ask for backup from the dunce duo... So they don't know you made the Polyjuice, do they?"

As he said this, he leaned off of the handsome trophy case and took a step towards Hermione, whose heart was beating so loudly she thought it was surely audible, and exercised all of her effort towards not communicating her nervousness. He knew, he knew, he knew, oh goodness, what was she to do? It wouldn't have been nearly as difficult a situation had he not been Draco Malfoy, the young man she'd been reservedly head over heels for during the past year, and had she not brewed the potion for such an unbearably ludicrous reason. She could've told Ron and Harry otherwise, and they'd be standing right outside the door to the trophy room as Malfoy closed in on her, verbally and physically. He was only feet away from her now, and he stopped once again on the brick-lain stone floor. She had no space to step back, as she was already in a corner next to the door she'd entered through. Despite everything, she felt a confusing tightness in her stomach, as though she was standing off the edge of a high place. She wanted to bury her face in her nearly trembling hands as she realized she was excited by him pressing in on her like this, in such an enclosed place. He set the lantern down on the shelf of a nearby trophy cabinet, hardly breaking eye contact with the visibly anxious Hermione. She took a slow, deep breath and closed her eyes a moment before opening them again.

"What were you up to, brewing the potion? It's obviously something important, considering you haven't told a soul beside yourself," Malfoy said conversationally, one hand in the pocket of his crisp black dress pants.  
"How... How do you know I haven't told anybody, huh?" Hermione raised her voice experimentally. Malfoy grinned cruelly.  
"You really think you're the smartest girl to ever walk the earth, don't you, Granger? I know you haven't told a soul because there's nobody here with you," He raised a hand to the side of his mouth to playfully whisper. "Why have you come to meet big scary Draco Malfoy all on your own? You're not the only one who can use _'homenum revelio'_."

Malfoy's smile evaporated. "Now tell me what you were doing."  
"I don't know what you're talking about," Hermione said unconvincingly.

As she said those last words, he stepped forward again, more swiftly than before. Before she had any time to react, Malfoy forcefully grabbed ahold of one of Hermione's forearms and jerked her forward slightly to face him. She became suddenly conscious of the weight of her situation. This was the son of a Death Eater, her enemy, they were alone in a dark room after curfew and nobody knew she was anywhere but in the confines of the house dormitory, and Malfoy was taller and stronger than she was. His eyes seemed much more threatening than before as he stared harshly into her face and spoke while the pain from the pressure of Malfoy's grip on her arm sunk in.

"Tell me what you were using the Polyjuice Potion for," Malfoy said roughly. "You know the kind of position you're in right now, Granger. It wouldn't be wise of you to lie, and we both know you're not going to use magic. You'd be expelled in the blink of an eye if I let slip what I saw you do in Slughorn's office... or perhaps you might be arrested for _theft._"

The fear surely showed on her face, especially her own eyes. The cold weight in her chest was pressing down on her... and she had to say it now or she wouldn't be able to at all. But she would _not_ allow herself to cry.

"I... I used the potion to turn into you," Hermione said quickly, her voice quavering slightly. "So that I could look at you without... without robes on, alright?! That's why I stole the ingredients, and that's why nobody else knows!"

Hermione was still trembling slightly with fear and anxiety, but she stared with a modicum of defiance back into Draco's eyes, some of the heavy weight of guilt that she'd carried being lifted at her inevitable confession. He released the vice-like grip on her forearm... and laughed. He chuckled cruelly for a moment before returning to intimidatingly stare at her, this time with the air of smug amusement she was so familiar with from him.

"And here I thought the great Hermione Granger had returned to her detective days with Stupid and Stupider. I didn't think you had it in you to participate in such an _immoral _activity," Malfoy sneered. The smallest change of expression flicked across his pale features, his body still much too close for comfort. "Thank you for giving me this opportunity to pay you back for all you and those two over-inflated gits have done to me."

Draco took a step back and seemed to consider Hermione for a tense moment with an apathetic expression, his arms held lazily at his side. Hermione stood like a statue, no longer trembling, attempting to revert to her standard, cool demeanor, though unable to move. She watched the young man stare back into her face. Slowly, as though he'd realized something, his expression shifted.

"Tell me, Granger - did you touch yourself?" Malfoy smirked. He shifted his position casually, his thin arms crossed upon his chest.

"_Excuse me_?" Hermione asked incredulously. Her heart seemed to pick up in its rhythmic pace as Draco studied her only a short distance away, a politely curious but offensive smile contorting his bored and cold features. Hermione's agitated and anxiety-ridden response seemed to have goaded Malfoy further in his provocation, as he continued.

"When you took that little excursion to the prefect's bathroom, did you _masturbate_ afterwards? I'm really very interested, you know. Quite the juxtaposition from the woefully immature Mudblood know-it-all I know," Malfoy hissed, his expression of glee broadening at her embarassment.

"Wha-... No, no, I've never done... done _that_, and even if I had, I certainly wouldn't tell you!" Hermione insisted defensively. It had never occurred to her in her scheme to masturbate, seeing as she was frantic to carry out her plot in simply satisfying her curiosity. Beside her anxiety and discomfit, an untraceable warmth seemed to fill her lower body. Promptly ignoring its emergence, her heart seemed to jump in Hermione's chest as Draco confidently but slowly stepped forward once again, casting Hermione in a blanket of shadow underneath his tall, lean frame, from behind which stood the lantern, still perched on the ledge of the handsome wooden trophy case. Time seemed to freeze as the pureblood placed his splayed hand on the stone wall behind her, and experimentally set his open hand on the side of her upper thigh, cloaked beneath the pleated scarlet skirt which reached the top of her knees.

With bated breath, Hermione's consciousness seemed to drink in Malfoy's actions, slowly registering each movement in her head as she stood confined against the bitter chill of the old stone wall. Why wouldn't she call out? His grey eyes were fastened onto her, as though observing Hermione through a glass screen, testing her reactions cautiously yet dauntlessly, a curiously blank look on his handsome, pointed face. She had to leave, she kept forgetting, she shouldn't be here at all, he's not to be trusted, he'll hurt us gravely if we let our guard down. These thoughts drifted vaguely across her mind, until Draco's hand slid to the bottom of the length of Hermione's skirt, and his cool fingers touched the pale skin of her thigh, making her shiver slightly as though the mildest electric current had come through her. His hand seemed to have slipped something into place, and his eyes pierced Hermione's with cold inquisitiveness. He slid the fabric of her skirt upwards as he felt the warmth of her skin underneath, her face shadowed and nervous. His hand was on the inside of her soft thigh, and her head swam, he was moving his hand up towards her most private area, and she had to call out, she had to push him away-

"_Do you want it, Granger?_" Malfoy whispered clearly in Hermione's ear. The warmth of his breath against her neck aroused her sensitive senses further, as she looked upwards to meet the flashing stare of his grey eyes. Her expression was more honest than any words she could have uttered.

"Good," Malfoy withdrew his hand from the skin of her thigh and lowered his left hand from its position against the wall, and straightened. Hermione's mind seemed to mourn the loss of contact as he slipped away from her, leaving her wide-eyed and stunned against the wall. "The password is 'Salazar' - I'll expect you at 11 o' clock sharp, Sunday night."

"I- What? Why... Why then?" Hermione stammered, not quite veiling the impatient tone of her voice, as Malfoy made his way to the door in long strides. "I just-"

"Eager, aren't we, Granger?" Malfoy said cruelly. "I would have you gasping for air right now, but I prefer to play with my food before I eat it. I'm in no rush to give you what you want."

"You don't know what I want! I certainly- certainly don't-," Hermione started, before Malfoy cut across her stridently.

"Shut up, won't you? Don't you forget, I'm not some stupid teacher you can impress with your book smarts, I have no admiration for you. I won't be allowing you to do whatever you like as you're so accustomed to, _Granger_. If you'll cut it with the prideful prude act, I'd very much appreciate it," Draco sneered. "Sunday night. You're to tell nobody. You belong to me now, you filthy Mudblood."

And with that, Draco Malfoy strode through the door, closing it behind him. Hermione stood solitarily in the drafty trophy room in her socks, head buzzing with the events that had transpired. Nothing had happened. Had she wanted something to happen? Was she ready? Why, why, why did it have to be Malfoy? She slowed her breath to a calming pace. He wanted her to go to the Slytherin common room on Sunday evening. Her stomach felt tied in knots, with something like anticipation filling her chest. And then... panic.

She'd truly gone too far.


End file.
